Forever
by Eritha
Summary: After a second brush with Sephiroth during the events of Advent Children, the people learn to live their lives again. One shot collection.
1. Always

This chapter is dedicated to icicle9944. Happy Birthday!

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Always**

He was always there.

That was what Tifa remembered Cloud to be when he was young – always there.

Whether she was hanging out with the rest of the kids in the main street, or practicing the piano at home. She remembered him, too shy to ask to join in when he wanted to, or looking out of his window into her room where she practiced.

She often wondered why Cloud would not approach her if he wanted to join in their games or listen to her play, why he turned pink every time she talked to him. It was not as though they were strangers, when in fact they had grown up next door to each other.

The day her mother passed away, Cloud was there too. He followed her up into the mountains when she was upset. It was a risky thing to do, and it was later evidenced by Tifa's fall and subsequent seven day coma, but he followed her anyway. He was there.

When they had grown up a little, Cloud asked to meet her one night at the well. He had a strange tone in his voice then, and she wondered what had happened to him. That night, he spoke of his ambition to join SOLDIER, and become famous around the world, much like Sephiroth, who enthralled many around the world with his feats, and led to a surge of boys and young men joining the army in the hope to emulating the one they saw as a hero. Tifa saw Cloud that night for what he really was – ambitious, courageous – instead of what he had shown to everyone else in the past – anti-social and aloof. That night, Tifa made Cloud promise that when he became famous and if she was in trouble, he would come and rescue him.

He promised to do that. Always.

Some years later, during the Nibelheim incident, he was there for her too. Even though he never became famous, he was there, protecting her to the best of his ability.

He was always there.

Tonight, the sky was darker than usual. There was no one in the bar except herself as Barret had taken the children on a short vacation in Costa de Sol. It was late, at almost one in the morning. Cloud was supposed to be back home by this time, but he wasn't.

Tifa thought about the things that could possibly happen to Cloud. He could have been in an accident; he could have been seriously injured by a monster…

Then she forced herself to blank out such thoughts from her mind. After all, Cloud had ridden in worse conditions and on less sleep than the five hours he had the night before, and he had fought battles tougher than the battles fought with the monsters around Edge. She took a bath, was about to pick out her nightdress from the wardrobe when her eyes spied one of Cloud's old shirts in the corner of her wardrobe. That shirt had somehow ended up in her pile when the laundry had been sorted out and she had tried to give it back to him, but he said that the shirt was old already and that he didn't need it anymore, but rather than following Cloud's instructions to throw the shirt away, she had hidden it in her own wardrobe, for sometime when she might need it.

For times like these when she needed him.

She slipped into the shirt and the hem of her shirt fell slightly above her knees. Despite the fact that the shirt had been lying in her wardrobe for sometime, it still had the faint scent of cologne, the one that was so familiar to her. It was Cloud's scent.

She completed the pajamas with a pair of cotton shorts and fell into her bed. Just then, a flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by the sound of rumbling thunder. The pitter patter of the rain on the windowpanes drowned out all sound from the street – the sound of her neighbors celebrating their son's eighteenth birthday late into the night; the sound of traffic in the street. It drowned the sound, but it wasn't enough to drown her thoughts.

Tifa moved her pillow so that it covered her ears, and muffled the sound of thunder, but it still did not muffle the thoughts that the rain had brought along with it. Rainy days reminded her of dark clouds, and the thought of dark clouds reminded her of an unhappy Cloud. She didn't want to think of an unhappy Cloud, because she wasn't happy when he wasn't. God, she knew she sounded like a hormonal teenager having her first crush, but that was the way it was.

The tick tock of the clock reminded her that time was passing slowly, and that the night was long. Soon she found herself thinking about Nibelheim all over again. How she lost almost everything she ever had, and how she was so close to losing him. Tears fell from her face as she relived the horror of Nibelheim. He wasn't obligated to fight Sephiroth, and had almost lost his life doing so, but he did it. For her, but what was the point of her living if she had lost him back then? She closed her eyes, and she could almost see the gleam in Sephiroth's eyes as he had slashed her with his sword, the same gleam that he wore in his eyes as he killed the villagers. It frightened her, and a scream was rising to her throat. She was frightened. So, so frightened. She needed him right now…

A hand gently caressed her hair, and another touched her cheek softly, wiping the tears that had fallen from her eyes. She opened her eyes and saw a pair of bright blue eyes looking at her with a concerned look.

"Tifa…is anything wrong?"

Cloud was home, and Tifa smiled a small smile back at him. She reached around him, embracing him and hiding her face in the crook of his neck. It was so comforting, but this comfort, strangely, only made her sob, louder and louder. One of his hands ran through her hair, and Tifa held the other hand in one of her own.

"Shush…everything's alright now."

"I'm glad you're home."

Then she realized that Cloud was always there for her when she needed him. He wasn't always punctual but he still made it on time. If she had ever thought he was going to abandon her, then she was a fool to think so, but right now she was in his arms.

She wasn't going to start doubting his promise now.

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A/N: Hopefully, I'll actually complete this series of prompts. Also as the chapters are one shots, they aren't in actual chronological order.

Next Chapter: Minutes - Cloud muses on the gift of life, and about living life to the fullest.


	2. Minutes

To Mrs J, for being my language teacher and encouraging me to start reading again to improve my writing, also, congratulations on the birth of your baby girl.

This chapter is for you.

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When Cloud awoke in the morning, daylight was already shining in. The morning sunlight filtered through the window, giving the room a soft ambience. He felt a small hand on his slightly larger one. Turning around, he realized it was Tifa's. He squeezed her hand gently, and counted his blessings.

To him, waking up beside Tifa every morning was the greatest joy he could have; to listen to her soft breathing, the quiet buzz of traffic on the street. It assured him that everything was alright, and that everyone was safe.

But he knew no matter how safe one believed they were they could all be taken away in a moment. He had people taken away from him; people he loved and treasured dearly - his mother, Zack, Aerith...others he had treasured, he lost.

He had thought of himself as a plague initially, a bringer of ill-luck to those around him. That was why he started distancing himself from people, people he loved, so that they would not die.

But he came to realize that he wasn't alone in the pain of having people leave them. Tifa had; Denzel had...heck, everyone probably had too.

That's why it was important to treasure everyone around them; every waking minute, every minute spent in slumber, cause they may be here a minute, gone the next. That's what Cloud had learnt so far in life.

As Cloud stirred, Tifa's eyes peeked open.

"Good morning" whispered Tifa softly.

"Good morning, how did you sleep?"

"Alright, my back feels better." She moved slightly and her hand reached to stroke her swollen belly with an air of maternal love.

Cloud knew, of course, that all children were carried by their mothers for forty weeks, and then born. In those forty weeks, they grew from a cluster of cells to a new born baby, very much human. But to Cloud the idea that Tifa was nurturing a living being inside of her, seemed magical but yet strange, to the point of being an almost foreign idea to him. He could not believe that there was a child inside of Tifa, and could believe even less the idea that the child in her was also his.

"Hey, how did you sleep?" she cooed in a motherly fashion to the unborn child.

Tifa watched as Cloud sat up slightly in his place and gently, yet awkwardly put his hand over her belly, love evident in every single action, as awkward as they were.

"Hey, there…uh…kid," said Cloud to Tifa's swollen stomach, clearly at a loss for words.

"I think he's going to be a boy"

"How do you know?"

"Motherly instincts," said Tifa smugly.

"Does that even exist?" questioned Cloud skeptically.

"Yeah, remember Mrs. Roberts from down the street? When she was pregnant, everyone said it would be a boy, but she knew it was going to be a girl and it really was."

Cloud was still stroking Tifa's stomach, as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

"Then, have you thought of any names?" asked Cloud

"I was thinking…Zack."

Cloud didn't expect it. He thought that he would be the one more like to suggest the name. Zack was, of course, a person that Cloud held close to his heart, a person he spent moments thinking of everyday, just so he would never forget him, not that he was likely to but just as a precaution, but still…

"Cloud?"

Tifa was looking at him with a concerned look, "if you don't want to name him that…it's alright really, I understand."

"No, it's not that Tifa,"

"Then what is it?"

"You know, I used to live in the past and dwell on the memories. About how things would have been different if Nibelheim hadn't happened or how they would be if Zack and Aerith had lived. But I realized that, the past isn't what matters, and what matters is living for every single minute that you still have, and everyone that is still around."

"I know." Tifa replied. "Cloud, I know."

Cloud smiled at Tifa and gently cupped his hands on her cheeks. Leaning closely onto her, his lips touched hers, and for a few moments, they were both in complete ecstasy.

"Morning!" shouted someone that Cloud recognized as Denzel, as the door opened in a rather violent manner, followed by the thump of the excited footsteps of two children running into the room. Next was immediately followed by the same voice shouting "Eww!"

"Denzel! I told you should have knocked!" shouted Marlene at Denzel, reproaching him for intruding into the couple's private moment. Cloud pulled back from Tifa, facing the kids.

"Uh…see ya later!" shouted Denzel awkwardly as he raced out of the room, grabbing Marlene along with him.

"What was that for?"

"I forgot…I promised to take them out later," Cloud said, smilingly

"Later?"

"I took a day from work."

"Wow."

At this, Cloud gave Tifa a quizzical look. "What?"

"Did anything happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"I thought nothing could come between you and work?"

"From today, I'm making family my priority. Like I said, I'm living for now, for this moment; for you, the kids, and the gang. Work is never ending if you really want to look for it, but people you love don't stay by your side forever."

With this, Cloud leant down and gave Tifa another kiss on the lips. It wasn't the same type of kiss, filled with passion and desire that he had given just now ("or rather, tried to, before the kids came barging into their room" thought Tifa), but rather it was chaste, gentle; one that was reassuring, and made one feel that the rest of the world could wait; that time would stand still for the two of them.

And the both of them learnt that day, that you didn't have to wait forever before you would find love in its most perfect form, unconditional and perfectly giving. It didn't have to be proven with "I love you"s, neither did you need to show it with material gifts. Love was trust – trust that someone would give up everything they had for you; that someone would always be there to hold your hand and catch you when you fall; that someone would always love you, no matter if he said it or not.

The love seen in movies that everyone desires can't always be found, even if you wait for forever, but real love can be found in the little minutes that pass you by, when someone makes a sacrifice, when someone places all that trust in you, believing that you would never violate that trust.

And at that moment, Cloud and Tifa had perfect trust in each other. They had perfect love.

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Happy Valentine's Day


	3. The Long Way Home

A/N: Hey guys, what's up. Firstly, I have to apologize for not updating in the past. UH. I LOST COUNT. Months.

I'm really quite busy with school this year and all, cause I'm taking the GCSE O's this November, which is the local equivalent of the IGSEs, I guess? Yep, the O's are really important right now cause it ultimately decides which school I'll be going to next year. I'm aiming to study Mass Communications at a local polytechnic here, with an emphasis on writing and I hope to become a journalism and published writer evantually. Right now, I don't have time to update regularly between schoolwork and other things so my stories suffer (I'm sorry, stories!) but after my exams I'll have a lot of time to work on my fics and all so I hope you'll understand.

With this chapter of "Forever", I've decided to take the focus away from Cloud and Tifa. Cloud and Tifa drabble fic collections have pretty much been flooding , and honestly I think some of these writers are really fantastic. But anyway, read on.

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Forever: The Long Way Home.

The man walks down the streets of Edge, exhausted. His white shirt is dirtied with mud, his blazer and trousers ripped in several places. His skin, like his clothes, were torn in several places. His hair was in a mad disarray and his face is muddied, scaring little children who were under the impression that they had just come across an insane homeless man on the streets. He gives his usual smirks to the one of the children watching him make his way down the street, sending the poor child scuttling. He laughs to himself, silently. How long had it been since he last laughed?

All around him, there are celebrations, celebrations of life, love and happiness. He stops in his tracks as he watches a young couple on the street run into each others arms, a loving embrace. He wonders how long had it been since he had been in the shoes of that young man, coming home to his love at the end of the day. He wonders how long it had been since he last saw _her_. Had it been a day, a week or had it already been a lifetime? He looks on enviously as they lock lips, reveling in their love for each other...

But he continues on his way, for he must not be distracted.

So far he has noticed that there is life, but now he realizes that there is also sadness. He walks into an alley and watches as a teenage girl cradles the body of her younger brother. The Cure had come too late for the boy. If he had only held on a little longer, he could have been alive right now. He could have been _saved._

_ It was another person he had failed._

But the boy sleeps painlessly now, his dreams no longer the nightmares he fear, and his waking moments no longer the living nightmare they were. The man listens to the girl croon her brother to sleep, in the place of their absent mother. He wonders if their plight had been his fault. If he had not existed, would they have remained part of a happy family?

At this moment. he reminisces the past: His moments of folly and glory, pride and shame. He wonders if life could have turned out differently for him, too.

He wonders if he could have lived the past two years without people slamming doors in his face, without people spitting on him in the streets, telling him he was the scum of the Planet. He wonders if he could have always loved innocently, without price.

He wonders if he could have kissed her goodbye without that uncomfortable feeling in the back of his mind, that when he returned he would have killed at least one innocent life. He wonders if he could hold her in his arms and promised her and he would be there for her always. He wonders if he could tell her "I love you" without feeling guilty, for after all he was the reason she was in the state that she was in _(If only he had not...)_

He wonders if he could have always been by his daughter's side, watching her every step of the way. He wonders if his daughter would have heard honest stories about how her father was a good and honest man instead of white lies fabricated to make her believe he was good. He wonders if he could have held his daughter without the stain of innocent blood on his hands.

He shrugs, and continues on his way. He was almost there now.

Soon, he arrives at his destination: a block of apartments, somewhat run down with age. He walks up to the third floor and finds a door labeled "03-160". He remembers the unit number well. He searches his pockets for a small, worn silver key. Finding it, he hesitates, but he still fits the key into the padlock of the door. He turns the key...

To his surprise, the key still works. It was as if the apartment's occupants had been waiting for him. The door opens, and he walks into the apartment almost soundlessly. In the low light, he sees the familiar black leather sofa and glass coffee table. They had aged, but they were still the same. He spies the shoes rack – the shoes it carried had changed, but it was evident the shoes it held presently still belonged to the same owner as the shoes before them had.

He notices the walls are different too. It wasn't the paint – it was still the same paint as he had remembered it., but it was now decorated with a child's little crayons, framed and displayed proudly. "Just like their house", the man thought.

He moves towards the only light in the house - the lights in the kitchen. A strange sound was coming from the room. Rustle. Clank. Rustle. Rustle. But as he walks toward it he realizes it is the sound of running water and...dishes. Someone was washing the dishes. He sees a young woman with a bob of brown hair. It is exactly how he remembers her. He steps into the light...

"Claire..."

The woman drops the dish she is watching and turns to face the man. Her eyes were the same gray he remembers, and her features the same too. But he realizes that he is a total stranger to the woman standing in front of him. He is embarrassed, and turns to leave.

"Reno?"

She remembers.

"Reno, is that you?"

Reno turns back to face Claire and he thought she had changed with the years. She was no longer the schoolgirl thrust into adulthood that he remembered, but appeared to be a woman well adjusted to her life. She walks towards Reno and wraps her arms around him.

"I thought you were gone. I thought you were never coming back." Reno feels the wetness of her tears seep into his shirt. He combs his fingers through her hair, and suddenly he realizes she had not changed. She was still the scared schoolgirl she was back then, the one who cried when she failed her Chemistry Exams, the one who cried when she fractured her arm in gym, the one who cried when she showed Reno the positive pregnancy test results.

She was still the scared schoolgirl who cried when her parents threw her out of the house and disowned her for carrying Reno's child. She was still the scared schoolgirl who cried when she was giving birth to their daughter. She was still the scared schoolgirl who cried when Reno left, three years ago, summoned by Shinra to stop Sephiroth.

Reno remembered, but he could not fathom how it had been three years already. Holy shit. He told her he would be back soon. Three years was not "soon". He broke his promise.

_ He had failed her as well._

But he does not break from Claire's embrace as he would normally do, and instead kisses her on the forehead with his cracked lips.

"I'm sorry I took so long." he says, tenderly. "It was a long way home, but I'm here now ," and as he says this, realization dawns on his face.

**"I'm...home."**

_And this time, he does not let guilt bother him. After all, he has a lot of time to make up for his mistakes. He had an eternity._

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A/N: Yep, I'm writing about Reno. Let me tell you all first hand that other than FFVII and Advent Children, I have never played any other part of the compilation, cause my parents are kind of strict about getting my brother and I new gaming consoles so I don't even have a PSP, PS3,or PS2. No, no Xbox either, so my fics might not fit into canon so much, especially when it comes to the Turks, cause they don't have much of a role in FFVII other than opposing Cloud and Co. while in Advent Children what we see of the Turks is pretty sad. I have no idea what they do in BC, CC and DoC, so I'm fleshing out my own back stories for them and making up their ages. Here, Reno would be around the same age as Tifa. I'm assuming, of course, that Reno was trained to be a Turk since young, due to something along the lines of blackmail so yeah. I hope to be able to write a Turk-centric fic soon, especially on Reno cause he fascinates me. I should really stop rambling so I'll end off here.


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